


Fall For You

by AntarcticBird



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:19:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntarcticBird/pseuds/AntarcticBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Klaine AU Friday:  autumn!Klaine. Since I love autumn and I love Klaine, I had no choice but to write this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall For You

Kurt has always loved the fall. It's been his favorite season for as long as he can remember. And there are a lot of memories; some good and some bad, but all with the underlying scent of rain and tea and candles, the taste of gingersnaps and apple pie and cinnamon.

 

He remembers being a little kid, remembers his mother picking him up from school, remembers walking home with his hand in hers, kicking up leaves and gathering acorns and chestnuts and twigs for their numerous craft projects. He remembers warming his cold fingers on a cup of hot cocoa while trying to remember all the words to the song they learned today so that he can sing it to her later.

 

He remembers his dad forgetting to take off his shoes by the door and leaving faint mud prints all over the floor, which always made his mom so mad. He remembers raking leaves in the backyard with his dad (in his memories, he's a great help). He remembers jumping into the freshly raked pile of leaves feet first and throwing handfuls at his dad who laughs and plucks a tiny spider off his sleeve before they head back inside.

 

He remembers sitting out on the back porch wrapped in his mom's favorite rust-colored scarf, inhaling the lingering scent of her, feeling sad and lost and lonely and wishing she could just not be gone anymore.

 

He remembers his dad's warm, comforting hand on his shoulder, his sad but strong voice asking him to come back inside. “I'll make you some cocoa,” he promises. His dad makes good cocoa. But, Kurt thinks that fall, it's not the way his mom used to make it.

 

**

 

It's fall when he finally learns how to ride a bike. His dad is so proud of him. And, to be honest, he's kind of proud of himself too. He spends a lot of that fall riding his bike up and down the street in front of their house whenever it's not raining.

 

**

 

He has always loved the colors of the fall, but his first fall at McKinley introduces some new ones he knows he'll never be fond of. Slushy-red doesn't go with any of his outfits, and that year, the usual pleasant scent of leaves and rain is mostly drowned out by the disgusting smell of dumpster that keeps clinging to his clothes no matter how many times he washes them.

 

That fall, he spends a lot of his time wrapped in a blanket on the couch, drinking tea and listening to the wind outside, enjoying his favorite season from behind closed doors.

 

**

 

Fall in itself is already pretty great, but being outside in between all the colors, surrounded by fresh, cold air with a beautiful boy by his side who holds his hand and leans into his side as they sit on the back porch – Kurt doesn't think it gets any better than this.

 

Blaine always seems to be around these days, and when he's not over at Kurt's house, Kurt is over at his.

 

They make cookies together. All kinds of cookies, everything in which cinnamon or ginger or chocolate can be used as an ingredient. Kurt has always enjoyed the art of baking – the precision in measuring and mixing ingredients so calming on days when he hadn't known what to do with himself. It's always been a quiet activity form him. Until Blaine came along.

 

Now he's standing in his kitchen with sticky fingers and powdered sugar in his hair, laughing as Blaine tries to reach out to pull him into a hug.

 

“No, stop, we need to clean up first,” he tries to protest, holding up both of his hands so he won't get anything on Blaine's clothes.

 

Blaine shrugs and reaches for Kurt's wrists, licking some cookie dough off his fingers. “Better?”

 

Kurt twists his hands out of Blaine's grasp and swipes some more dough from the bowl, smearing it across Blaine's cheek. “Now it is.”

 

“Hey!” Blaine pouts at him. “I was helping.”

 

“Oh, I'm very sorry, here, let me take care of that for you,” Kurt says, smirking, and proceeds to kiss the cookie dough off Blaine's face.

 

**

 

They're in the backyard, sitting on the steps of the back porch and drinking hot chocolate. It's late afternoon and everything is bathed in soft yellow light, the air around them cool but not yet freezing. The blanket they've draped over their legs is old and scratchy and smells faintly of dust, but it hardly registers over the scent of freshly fallen leaves surrounding them.

 

Kurt wraps his fingers around his mug to keep them warm and smiles when Blaine leans into him a little, resting his head against Kurt's shoulder. “This is nice,” he says.

 

Kurt inhales deeply, feeling the spicy air fill his chest as his lungs expand. “It is,” he confirms. “It's perfect.”

 

Blaine lifts his head and kisses Kurt's cheek until Kurt turns his face and captures Blaine's mouth with his own. Blaine's lips are cold against his at first, but then he parts them slightly and everything is warm and wet and tasting of chocolate and Blaine and yes, _everything_ is perfect. So perfect.

 

**

 

Kurt's first fall in New York is gray and cloudy.

 

The city is actually beautiful. He takes long walks with Rachel, looks at the leaves and drinks gallons of pumpkin spiced latte, he buys scented candles and burns them in the apartment while making dinner. He wears his favorite scarves and listens to all the fall playlists the internet has to offer.

 

None of it helps.

 

He has always appreciated the quiet melancholy of his favorite season, but this year, there is nothing quiet about it, and instead of melancholy all he feels is this constant ache in his chest. Some days it hurts more than others, but it never really goes away.

 

He misses Blaine.

 

He's so angry at him. He feels so betrayed. He's so – lonely. And it hurts.

 

He makes hot chocolate and remembers Blaine's face when he showed up at his door, wearing a red scarf and a wide smile and holding up a giant bag of tiny marshmallows. He only manages a few sips before leaving the mug on the counter, 'forgetting' about it until it's gone cold.

 

At the store, he picks up an apple-scented candle that smells absolutely delicious and all he can think of is how the apple-scented candles were always Blaine's favorite. He puts it back on the shelf and walks out of the store without even buying anything.

 

Back home he looks out the window and tries not to cry as he watches the rain fall.

 

**

 

New York in the fall with Blaine back by his side is everything he had ever wanted it to be. It looks the same as it did the year before, just – brighter.

 

And when he wakes up on a Saturday morning with Blaine half on top of him, one hand under Kurt's shirt and drooling a little onto his shoulder, he just stretches a little, wraps his arms back around his boyfriend and dozes off again for just a few minutes while the rain taps against the window.

 

It's cleared up outside and almost sunny for early November when they're finally done showering and getting dressed and falling back into bed for some impromptu morning sex somewhere in between.

 

They get bundled up in scarves and warm jackets and fingerless gloves and their fingers tangle together automatically as they make their way out the door.

 

The walk to the park is long but it's too nice out to spend any time on a dirty subway train. They pick up some Chai along the way and find an empty spot on a bench under an old oak tree where they sit and talk for a while.

 

They just end up walking eventually, cold fingers tangled together and shoulders bumping together with every other step.

 

“What are your thoughts on baked apples?” Blaine wants to know, and Kurt nods enthusiastically.

 

“As long as you're making them.” He has tried many times to copy Blaine's recipe, but while his cookies are clearly superior, Blaine makes the best baked apples of anyone he knows.

 

“Of course I'll make them.” Blaine squeezes Kurt's fingers a little and bumps into him a little harder so they stager sideways for a step or two. “Yours always end up way too soggy.”

 

“Shut up,” Kurt says, even though he knows it's true, and leans over to kiss Blaine's cheek. “If we can pretend that I'm still the better cook and you're just making them because you want to, I'll give you a backrub later.”

 

Blaine seems to think about it. “A naked backrub?” He asks.

 

Kurt laughs, letting go of Blaine's hand to drape an arm across his shoulders. “Is there any other kind?”

 

**

 

It's Blaine's second year of college and while he had spent his first Thanksgiving away from home wrapped around Kurt under a soft, fluffy blanket in their apartment, drinking hot tea and basically making out for three days straight, he had promised his parents to come home this year.

 

So Kurt goes too, spending a few days with his family, sitting out on the back porch with his dad drinking hot cider and catching up on all the stuff they haven't had time to talk about over the phone.

 

Blaine comes to visit one afternoon and the next day Kurt drives up to Blaine's house. They always make a point of visiting each other's families at least once every time they fly back home.

 

He's standing in Blaine's backyard, hands in his coat pockets, watching his boyfriend play with the puppy his parents got a few weeks ago. It's adorable, but he's getting cold and he's been promised a slice of Mrs Anderson's home made cheesecake and he really wants to go back inside. She always puts cinnamon in his coffee. He really wants that coffee right now.

 

“Blaine?” he tries.

 

Blaine looks up at him, cheeks reddened from the cold, and tilts his head. “You look cold.”

 

“That's because I am cold,” Kurt answers, shivering a little. “Listen, I'm just gonna go back inside and have cake with your mother, you can stay out here and freeze your ass off until you decide to join us, okay?”

 

Blaine lets go of the puppy, who immediately starts chasing its own tail, and something glints in his eyes. “Oh, I see,” he says. “You're just going to abandon me out here.”

 

“Honey, I've been watching you play with the dog for half an hour. I can't feel my toes anymore.”

 

“I could play with _you_ instead,” Blaine suggests, grinning mischievously as he gets up off the ground.

 

“What do you -” Kurt starts, then shrieks as Blaine charges at him, catching him around the waist and tackling him into a pile of freshly raked leaves.

 

“You're not getting away from me that easily,” he informs Kurt happily, grinning down at him.

 

Kurt catches his breath, Blaine's warm, heavy weight on top of him pressing him deeper into the leaves. “Get off me, get off -” he yelps, batting at Blaine's shoulders, but he can't pretend to be angry when he's laughing so hard, feeling young and silly and still cold, but it seems bearable, all of a sudden.

 

“Nope.” Blaine settles more comfortable on top of him before leaning down for a kiss, soft and slow and tender, making no intention of letting go or getting up.

 

And Kurt is wearing a really expensive jacket and he's spent half an hour on his hair and he should be so _pissed_ , but instead he just – melts into it, arms coming up around Blaine's back, inhaling the scent of fresh air and fallen leaves and _Blaine_ in between kisses.

 

Until the puppy bounces over to them and starts licking their faces excitedly and Kurt finally gathers the resolve to wriggle out from under Blaine and get up, brushing leaves and dirt and spiders from his pants, and dog saliva from his cheek.

 

“That's it,” he informs Blaine. “That's disgusting. Once we're ready for pets, we're getting a cat. I don't care how cute puppies are, this is _disgusting_.”

 

Blaine laughs so hard he falls over twice as he tries to climb out of the pile.

 

**

 

So maybe taking a vacation in early November is not the most exotic or exciting thing to a lot of people. But it's cheaper than in the middle of summer and definitely still nice, even if the lake cabin is a bit drafty and it's been raining for four days straight since they got here.

 

Kurt doesn't really care right now; he's naked and stretched out in front of the fire, his very naked fiance on top of him, and who cares about things like the weather when this is the result of not being able to go outside without getting drenched.

 

“Blaine,” he gasps, legs wrapping around Blaine's back as Blaine thrusts into him harder, face buried against Kurt's neck, letting out small breathy moans with each jerk of his hips.

 

“Oh god,” Blaine replies eloquently and holds onto Kurt's shoulders for better leverage as he rocks them both closer to orgasm, panting against Kurt's skin wetly.

 

It feels so good – they've been doing this a lot since they got here simply to stay warm, or that's what they've been telling each other with seductive little grins on their faces each time – but it just never gets old.

 

“I love you,” Kurt breathes, blunt fingernails digging into the skin of Blaine's back. “Love you, I love you -”

 

Blaine groans and reaches for Kurt's cock as he fucks into him faster, hips snapping forward in short, abandoned thrusts as they both chase the sparks of pleasure that start flaring brighter and brighter.

 

“ _Kurt_ -” he exhales, then sucks in a breath and thrusts in deep, tensing in Kurt's arms and coming with a long moan that cuts off into a whimper at the end.

 

Kurt follows him a second later, jolts of toe-curling, ecstatic bliss piercing through him as he clings to Blaine, panting and moaning and locking his legs tighter around Blaine to keep him inside as he rides out the waves until he's completely spent.

 

They curl up together on the scratchy blanket, both sweaty and tired and kind of gross and feeling so, so good.

 

Kurt just lets himself be held for a minute, waiting for his breathing to calm before he even thinks about taking a showet.

 

“I love you,” Blaine says into his hair.

 

And Kurt cuddles closer to his sweaty, naked boyfriend and listens to the rain tapping on the roof and the fire crackling in the fireplace, inhales the smell of sex and cinnamon-spiced coffee and candles and baked apples in the room, and smiles happily.


End file.
